


Pajamas and Mittens and Locks, Oh My...

by BellaRisa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Castiel, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Dean, Brat Dean, Corporal Punishment, Dean-Centric, Dom Castiel, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Discipline, Embarrassed Dean, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Infantilism, M/M, Slightly Dark Domestic Discipline, Sorta if you squint - Freeform, Spanking, Supernatural - Freeform, Team Dean's Red Ass, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaRisa/pseuds/BellaRisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This had seemed so hot, with just a hint of embarrassment, when he'd suggested it to Cas. Now, seeing the pajamas and the lock (the lock THE LOCK oh what had he done??), he was feeling far more humiliation than he'd expected. Which probably made it a very effective way to discipline him, he thought ruefully...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pajamas and Mittens and Locks, Oh My...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deadmockingbirds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadmockingbirds/gifts).



> A gift for the fantasmawonderful Deadmockingbirds! I was aiming for a DD story with a twist; this started out one way but wanted to go just a bit darker, hope y'all like it :) Comments are sooo welcome and much appreciated!

They were a lovely shade of hunter green. Flannel. Billowy soft to the touch. Little red airplanes here and there made them that much cuter.

Fresh from the shower, Dean stared at them as his Cas held them up, eyes wide and his lower lip beginning to tremble.

The silver lock was shiny and new. Perfect for locking a zipper in place.

Once he put on the footed pajamas and Cas locked the zipper, he would be at Cas' mercy. He would have to humbly and politely ask for release if he needed to…ugh. THAT thought led to a fiery blush and a tremor deep, deep in his belly. This had seemed so hot, with just a hint of embarrassment, when he'd suggested it to Cas. Now, seeing the pajamas and the lock (the lock THE LOCK oh what had he done??), he was feeling far more humiliation than he'd expected. Which probably made it a very effective way to discipline him, he thought ruefully.

"Aw c'mon Cas, I know what we said but really??"

The glint in Castiel's eyes was one of quietly amused dominant pleasure as he beckoned Dean closer.

Dean stood rooted to the spot. Naked, not even his socks. He wanted to obey but his legs felt frozen, lifeless. Cas couldn't be serious about going through with this. Dean knew that he was.

"Kneel." Castiel pointed to the floor between his thighs. He sat on the edge of their bed, obviously growing impatient. Dean knew from experience that he had just about 2 seconds to comply before his situation became *painful* as well as humiliating. He forced himself to move, padding barefoot to Cas with lowered eyes. He slipped to his knees before his Head of House and waited, as he'd been taught to do.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

Cas raised Dean's chin until determined blue eyes met wary green. "I've had enough of your attitude this week. You've earned this, and you know it. You're going to wear your pajamas like my good boy, all night. If you need to go potty (Oh how Dean *hated* that word! Which was why Cas used it, to make him blush), wake me up and ask me to unlock you. Do NOT try to unlock yourself or go by yourself. You know what happens to bad baby boys, don't you?" Dean nodded, tasting fresh tears but refusing to show them.

"What happens to bad baby boys?"

Cas was going to make him say it, damn him.

"They get a spanking," he mumbled quietly. He was finally beginning to regret the days of brattiness and rule-breaking that had brought them here.

"Does my baby need a spanking tonight?" Not a threat but a genuine question. Cas was rubbing his thumb over Dean's chin lovingly.

"NO Sir!" said Dean, and actually meant it for once. Thanks to his admittedly stubborn streak he'd been sassy and misbehaving for days. Meaning he’d been spanked repeatedly for days. Some of which he had asked for, knowing he'd needed and earned it. Still he doubted his tender, raw-skinned bottom could handle any more. He would be good for his Cas tonight.

Nodding, Cas stood him up and Dean stepped into the velvety-smooth feet of the big-boy pajamas. Helping Dean slide his arms in, Cas arranged them until they fit properly. Zipped them up, sliding the zipper s-l-o-w-l-y up and over Dean’s precious package to make him quiver. Dean sighed inwardly, sure that his chances of having any more attention in that particular area were slim and none for this night.

Cas locked the zipper in place.

Dean's face burned with shame. Not at having to wear the jammies, to be honest he'd fantasized about this forever. The problem was how much he'd had to misbehave and drive his eternally patient Cas up a wall to get here. And he was pretty sure he'd done it on purpose. That still confused him. He worried his lower lip with his teeth and pouted slightly while Cas placed even softer thick cotton mitts on Dean’s hands, knowing that he wouldn't be able to help himself at all. Dean would spend the night completely under the control of his Sir, all of his independence taken away by his own naughtiness. That should have been humiliating, and it was.

But it was also very...comforting. Which confused him even more.

"Drink." Castiel’s voice brought Dean out of his own thoughts. Cas was holding a small bottle of spring water.

No. Please no.

"I'm not thirsty, Sir..." Those blue eyes stormed over into black and Dean shivered as Cas growled low.

"I didn't ask you if you were thirsty. _Drink_."

His first instinct was to refuse. His sore bottom and thighs were quickly replacing his old instincts with new ones.

He drank. Two of the bottles were gone before Cas agreed he’d had enough, his flannel-covered tummy now full. Dean knew Cas enjoyed how he looked holding the bottles in his mitted grasp, and wanted to bite him. Instead he wisely finished the bottle and waited obediently for whatever came next.

Cas brought him to his feet and wiped Dean’s lips for him, the kindness disarming him as usual when he was in trouble. Made him feel safe and protected, and loved even though he hadn’t been a very good boy. That love made Dean willing to do nearly anything Castiel asked, even when the shame was almost more than Dean could bear. Cas gave Dean kisses that curled his toes, and tucked them both into the big bed, pulling Dean close to him and lightly tickling him in the places he knew Dean loved.  
Loved when his body wasn't full of liquid, that is. Cas was kind enough to give him peace after just a few moments of pleading for mercy through his squeals, but the damage had been done. Dean knew that sleep would be short before he needed…relief. He sighed as he snuggled into Cas, praying for a fast night. Drifted off feeling warm and sleepy, and very much owned.

And then it happened. Dean woke with a vague sense of urgency, feeling about to burst. Untangling from Cas’ bear hug, Dean started for the bathroom when reality struck;

He would have to ask Cas to let him go. There was no way he could let himself out of the lock…

A sudden, angry wave of rebellion washed over him, typical when he was this tired and out of sorts. All thoughts of obedience vanished; the HELL with Cas, to hell with their rules (even though he’d not only agreed to them, but suggested most of them in the first place). This was ridiculous, he was an adult and he had rights and…and he peeked over his shoulder at his sleeping Sir, making sure he was asleep; being an adult wouldn’t matter if Cas woke up. He would blister Dean’s bottom if he caught him. Satisfied that Cas was out, Dean sank to his knees in the darkness. Crawling to the nightstand he found the key to the pajama lock; once the mitts were off he could relieve himself quickly and quietly, then put the mitts back on...

And that was how Cas found him when he snapped on the lamp; on his knees in footy pajamas with the key in his mouth.

"GET BACK INTO THIS BED." His tired, angry roar shook the room and Dean scrambled up into bed beside him. His need was no less urgent but visions of what Cas might do kept him quiet.

But he had to go, and soon.

"Please Sir, I need to..."

"Need to what?"

Damn him. Dean wanted to scream. But he was about to explode.

"I need to...go potty, please let me go!" He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. After he went, that is.

"You were going to get loose and go by yourself, weren't you?"

Dean nodded, miserably, squirming with need. Please Sir, oh please…

"I should make you stand in the corner 'til you're all wet. Maybe then you'd finally learn to behave." Dean shook his head, near tears, begging with his sad eyes.

Cas sighed and held up the keys.

"You have a choice. You may keep the mitts on and I can go with you and assist you, then zip you up again so you can go back to sleep; OR, you can get unlocked and remove your pajamas and go to the bathroom, then come back here and go right over my knee for fifty with my hairbrush and THEN get zipped up again. Up to you."

A tear slid down one cheek. That was a heinous set of choices. Shame like he’d never experienced with Cas holding his…while he…or a hairbrush spanking that would surely have him bawling like a baby in minutes.

"Unlock me, please Sir." Almost a whisper. He just couldn’t go through with that first option, even though he trusted his Cas and it would have been so much easier. He hated himself for being so shy, so easily embarrassed. Nodding Cas quickly set Dean free, then watched as Dean shimmied out of the mitts and warm pajamas and placed them at the foot of the bed. Dean scampered off and took care of himself quickly, and lingered in the bathroom until he heard his name. He returned, shuffling and slow, to find Cas sitting up in bed. The hairbrush in his hand and a pillow over his knee.

Dean stood, naked and shivering at the foot of the bed, until he was told to lie across the pillow and lace his hands behind his head. Slowly, slowly he crawled up to his Cas and took his position.

The spanking was long and nasty; Dean HATED wooden implements and hated hairbrushes the most. By the twentieth strike he was sobbing, his fingers throbbing from clenching one another. He was grateful Cas hadn't asked him to count, there was no way he could have formed words. Again and again the brush came down on his swollen, fiery red bottom; Cas didn't scold because he knew Dean wouldn't hear him at this point. Dean’s legs kicked and flailed until five smacks to his milky thighs cured him of it, thereafter he lay still and wept achingly like a naughty, well-spanked little boy. Which he was.

Before the last five Cas stopped. Stroked the tenderized, burning skin and rubbed Dean’s back as he shook with sobs. But he wasn't done. Putting down the brush, Cas took up the short cane that had been placed near the bed for this very moment. He rubbed it along Dean’s pink and sensitive thighs; Dean realized what it was and began to panic, oh how that little cane stung! And on an already flaming bottom...Dean all-out panicked.

“PLEASE Sir, please don’t I’ll be good---!!!“ His words muffled into the blankets, his voice raspy and high with distress.

"Will we have this problem again, or can you behave?" "I can behave, I can (hic) behave please Cas please..." Dean sobbed, the despair in his voice affecting Cas’ heart even though he’d done his best to prevent that very thing. He sighed and replaced the cane by the bed.

And gave his bratty love five good and strong hand spanks to the sit-spots where bottomcheek met thigh. With a wail of both hurt and relief Dean became utterly boneless, weeping into the blankets and praying they were done.

“You’re very lucky that I believe you’re ready to be a good boy now,” Said Cas. “Put everything away and put your pajamas back on, then get right back into this bed."

His harsh, stern tone was tempered by the way Cas was rubbing his exhausted boy’s back and stroking his silky, damp hair. Dean lay there a moment longer and let his tormented breathing lessen to just hiccups and shudders. Rising from Cas' knee, his bottom a mass of hurt, he gathered up the brush and little cane and placed them back where they belonged. His vision cloudy and his eyes as swollen as his backside, he made himself find the pajamas which had slithered to the floor and put them back on. Carefully he curled up under the blanket, as far away from Cas as he could.

Cas was mean and terrible. He hated him.

Didn't he?

Castiel knew this was coming. Drawing a pouting but compliant Dean into the circle of his arms Cas held him, rubbed his bottom through the pajamas and whispered to him about being a good boy. His good boy.

That broke Dean, broke him right down.

He wept, face buried in his Cas’ strong chest, until there was nothing left. All of the anger and resentment gone. He would never fully understand why he allowed this; the embarrassment, the sore bottom, the giving in.

Why did he need this so badly?

Cas kissed him, and placed his thumb in between Dean’s lips. As Cas predicted Dean immediately began to suckle like a pacified baby, calm and safe.

And Dean knew.

He was Cas’ baby boy. For as long as Cas wanted him to be.

No other answers were needed.


End file.
